𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

66. drive safely

tuesday,
february 15th, 2021

EZRA GREYSTONE

"Do you think they liked me?"

I can't contain my chuckles as Luke anxiously wrings his hands together, his fingers fiddling with the chunky silver rings on them. Suddenly, he snaps out of his overthinking state, his head flicking over to look at me. He frowns, causing me to bite my lip to swallow my laughter in fear of offending him.

"Hey, it's not funny," he whines, laying a hand across my jogger clad thigh. He pouts his lips at me, "I want them to like me."

I take his larger hand in two of mine, bringing his knuckles to my lips gently. This prompts a beautiful half smile to crawl across his lips, his lashes fluttering as he looks at me from the driver's seat.

"Lu, they loved you," I tell him truthfully, "I've never seen my Ma bake for anyone other than me before."

At this, Luke's eyes practically light up.

Before Luke showed up at the wedding, I had promised my parents I'd go to their house — my childhood home — for brunch the following day. At first, I was apprehensive about telling Luke but at the same time I didn't want to leave Edinburgh without saying goodbye to them in person. And considering Luke convinced me to cancel my plane ticket and road trip back home with him instead, he was stuck with me until then.

After we got out of the shower (and after we did other things) I asked him how he'd feel about meeting them. To my surprise, Luke was more than eager to meet my parents, though his nerves shone through clear as day.

Honestly, it went fantastically. My parents are pretty friendly and welcoming anyways, but I couldn't quite believe how well they got along with Luke. Granted, I wasn't one hundred percent honest when they asked how we met. "At uni" I'd said, to which Luke cut me off and steered the conversation in a different direction because I could tell that he, too, was worried about telling them that we met because he's my professor.

"Her cookies were pretty good," Luke murmurs thoughtfully, bottom lip jutted out as he watches our fingers interlock. "So, they really did like me?" he beams.

"Yes," I laugh, leaning over and taking his jaw in my palm to press a messy kiss to his awaiting lips.

Against my lips, I feel Luke start to smirk, so I pull away with a suspecting look written all over my face. When I go to ask him why he's looking at me like that, he parts his own lips to speak before I can.

"Even though I was balls fuckin' deep—"

I gasp, slapping my hand over his mouth to halt his sentence there. He elicits a high-pitched, addictive bout of laughter, the sound muffled against my palm. I narrow my eyes, my neck and face firing up with a familiar blush.

"Luke Robert Hemmings," I harshly say, my heart undoubtedly swelling at the way his baby blue eyes are crinkled at the edges in sheer joy. "You're so rude."

"I'm rude?" he gasps against my hand.

Amid his chuckling, he takes my hand that's by his face in his own, leaning over the centre console and kissing along my jaw sloppily. I giggle at the feeling, giving in to his loving affection.

"Yes, Luke. Fuck, please, please fuck me!" he moans into the skin of my neck, causing my eyes to widen as he imitates how I spoke to him in the shower of the hotel bathroom.